


The Lover

by monchy



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:39:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monchy/pseuds/monchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life seems senseless to Obi-Wan Kenobi until he meets a young man that gives a new meaning to everything he knows. </p>
<p>AU in which Episode I never happened, and Anakin got stuck in Tatooine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1

(Recommended soundtrack: Paradise – Madonna; La noyée – Carla Bruni.)

Obi-Wan sat on the rotating chair, looking at the space outside. When he was younger he had hated ships with big windows, because they made him feel as if he was floating in a big infinite instead of standing in a safe structure, but as the years passed, he found himself liking more and more the view of the immense blackness adorned by occasional luminous spots. Mace said that he was just getting old, and Obi-Wan was starting to think that the black-skinned Master was right.

Coruscant was still too far, too far to be distinguished and Obi-Wan sighed, exasperated. Deep down, windows or no windows, big or small ships, he had always hated travelling through space. He used to complain about it and Qui-Gon used to laugh of his perfectly composed padawan and his flying issues. Obi-Wan always told him that he liked staying on firm ground, and then Qui-Gon smiled and pulled his braid or ruffled his then short, spiky hair.

But Obi-Wan didn’t want to think about Qui-Gon, because then his mind would irremediably fly to the moment in which, trapped behind a barrier, he had seen his Master’s imposing figure fall to the floor under the attack of a double red saber. Then he would see himself screaming a loud no that could had come from someone else’s voice, he would feel his senses go numb once again out of fear and rage, and he would feel himself running, lightsaber in hand, to finish with the one who had hurt his Master. He would kill Maul again, a soft and light cut, lacking remorse and filled with a sense of unreality and finally, he would run to the laying figure of his Master, he would see him smile one last time, he would feel the ephemeral touch of his still warm finger on his face and he would see his dark blue eyes close forever. Forever.

“Master Kenobi.”

Aayla’s soft voice took him out of his reverie. Obi-Wan tuned the chair around, facing the young one and offering her a smile.  
“I’m going to make some tea, can I offer you something?”

“Thanks Aayla, but it’s not necessary.”

“Alright, Master.”

The young one flashed him a smile and disappeared in one of the ship’s rooms.

The mission certainly hadn’t gone alright, but at least Aayla and himself had left the place unharmed; Force knew that if he returned Aayla with one scratch Quinlan would have his head on a plate. The ship, though, hadn’t been that lucky.

Obi-Wan and Aayla had left for the Outer Rim in what had initially been a diplomatic mission, but that had ended in what Qui-Gon used to call aggressive negotiations. The Council had decided to send Aayla with him so she could watch the best diplomat the Order had – and those had been Mace’s exact words – in action. Obi-Wan hadn’t taken a padawan of his own, so he used to take other one’s padawans with him and, after all, there were plenty of things Quinlan could teach Aayla, but diplomacy certainly wasn’t one of them.

The ship had suffered some damage in the hurried escape, which obviously forced them to travel even slower, making Obi-Wan think of arriving to Coruscant as a far away dream. All because of a failed mission which, any case, had been quite useless from the beginning. Obi-Wan seemed to be the only one to understand that the Outer Rim and diplomacy weren’t compatible terms.

The truth was everything had seemed to become quite senseless for Obi-Wan in the past few years. He felt that he was living in a continuous inertia, moving forward because it was the only choice. They won some battles, lost others, they gained some allies, lost others, and people kept dying around the galaxy while he went back to the same cold, empty room. Maybe, after all, he should have taken a padawan; maybe he should do it now. Nevertheless, the simple idea of forming a bond with a stranger, the kind of bond that had joined him with Qui-Gon, made him feel uneasy. He had to be thankful that the Council had accepted his decision, although he suspected Mace had a lot to do with that. Probably, Mace missed Qui-Gon even more than he did.

Obi-Wan started to smile, but a strong trembling in the ship forced him to clutch the arms of the chair and frown. He stood up with a swift move and took his steps to the pilot’s cabin but, before leaving the room, he saw, through the window, a column of smoke coming from one of the silver wings of the ship.

“Well now, that can’t be good,” he whispered to himself, walking towards the cabin. “Captain.”

The man who worked the ships’ controls frenetically didn’t acknowledge him, but another one of the crewmembers approached him and pointed outside.

“It seems that the damage was worse than we initially thought.”

“Is there something wrong?”

Aayla entered the room, her expression suddenly worried.

“Will we be able to reach Coruscant?” asked Obi-Wan, approaching the captain and letting the other man explain Aayla the situation.

“I think we are going to have to land somewhere.”

The captain didn’t turn around and kept moving nervously over the control panels.

“We could try, but it would be better to get the missing pieces and repair the ship.”

“How long would the repairing take?”

“Three, four days. Assuming of course that we find the pieces. We could stop on…”

The captain touched a button of the panel and entered some coordinates, introducing then a small ratio around them.

“Tatooine, it’s the closer planet we have.”

“Tatooine?”

Obi-Wan checked his memory, looking for some fact that could be useful, but he had nothing on Tatooine, although it would probably be just another planet of the Outer Rim: arid and inhospitable.

“How risky would it be to try to reach Coruscant?”

“We are too far.”

Obi-Wan sighed, took his hands to his temples.

“Alright, we’ll land. Aayla.”

“Yes, Master?”

“Send a message to Coruscant with our coordinates and let them know we’ll arrive a few days later.”

“Yes, Master.”

The landing wasn’t the best Obi-Wan had seen, but it definitely wasn’t the worst, either. The ship shook a lot, hit the floor a few times and it finally landed with a hollow sound, raising a column of sand and smoke. The captain swore in a language Obi-Wan didn’t understand and the rest of the crew smiled, relieved.

When Obi-Wan descended the ship followed by Aayla, the first thing he did was lower his eyes to the ground and sigh, watching his already dust covered boots and the immense extension of sand that seemed to cover the surface of the place. He shrugged, thinking that, at least, they hadn’t landed on a swamp. Without a word and covering his eyes with a hand to avoid the shining sun, Obi-Wan pointed towards a direction and soon enough they were both walking to what looked like a civilized population. Or at least that’s what Obi-Wan hoped it was.

When his feet entered what was, indeed, a population – civilized? He couldn’t be sure just yet – the night had fallen already; a too hot night. The population couldn’t actually be called a city, since it was composed basically by some low constructions, a lot of bars, a lot of junk stores and the traces of what was probably a popular market during the day. It could be any other planet of the Outer Rim; Obi-Wan kept finding them more alike every day.

Obi-Wan walked towards the closest store, praying to every known God that the needed piece was easy to find. They would take advantage of them any case, but Obi-Wan would gladly pay any price to return to Coruscant as soon as possible. The store seemed to be managed by a funny looking being, some kind of little slug with big eyes and a color close to purple. Certainly repulsive. Qui-Gon would have probably found it interesting, not to say adorable; he had always had a tendency of getting attached to all kinds of creatures.

“Good night.”

Aayla stepped forward, showing a hologram of the ship and proceeding to ask for what they needed. The creature simply looked at her for a few seconds and then, raising what could have been called an arm, pointed to the opposite side of the street, a few meters away.

“Watto,” he said later, with a deep and strangely kind voice.

“Thank you very much.”

But the creature had stopped listening to them already.

Aayla shrugged and Obi-Wan imitated her unconsciously, walking then to the indicated place. They entered a room full of junk, oxidized robots, parts and dangerously close wires.

“Hello?” asked Obi-Wan to the empty room.

A flutter made him look to the opposite side of the room, where appeared the one he hoped was Watto. Indeed, he – it – was. Obi-Wan allowed Aayla to talk to him, eager as she was to see new places and meet new species. Obi-Wan supposed it was what being young was about, although he had never actually felt any kind of curiosity towards beings that looked so not humanoid. Then again, he had always been a little bit weird.

A loud sound and some pieces falling to the floor made him pay attention again. The creature, Watto, cursed loudly in what could only be Huttesse and offered what seemed to be a dismantled droid a dismissive look.

“Boy!” he screamed.

“Coming!” was the answer.

Watto indicated them to follow him while a young man appeared in the room, a rag between his hands and a questioning expression in his face. Young man and creature shared a conversation that definitely included the words lazy, fix and now, all of it adorned with all kind of insulting. The boy finally sighed and walked towards the pieces laying on the floor, picked them up and left them on a small table.

Obi-Wan looked at him, mysteriously interested in the young face with delicate features. He found himself outlining a pair of full lips, noticing the different colors a dark blonde hair took in the store’s light. And then, the boy looked at him. Their eyes locked, blue against blue and Obi-Wan suddenly forgot what breathing felt like. Exterior noises seemed to die, Aayla’s voice calling him to follow her, wires exploding in low sputtering, the metallic crash of big machinery, the cursing, everything, even the sound of his own heart inside his chest. Obi-Wan found himself lost inside the look that faced him, deep and strangely familiar, so alike those dreams in which he fell irremediably without reaching any place. For years, Obi-Wan’s days had passed like a continuous line, one just like the next, until now, a moment in which everything seemed to crash, to click, to change the line his life was.

“Master?”

It was someone pulling the sleeve of his cloak what made him tear his gaze away from the young man, forcing him to go back to reality.

A million sounds started reaching him at the same time, a dizzying explosion against his ears. He looked at Aayla and smiled, nodding. He didn’t look at the young man again, but he walked behind the creature and the Jedi and, for what seemed like hours but could have been minutes, he let them both discuss prices and pieces. When they left the store, the young man wasn’t there anymore, but it didn’t matter, because during the way back to the ship and that night, while Obi-Wan kicked his sheets away, a pair of blue eyes stayed in his memory, burned inside it, screaming… screaming that nothing would ever be the same.


	2. Day 2

_(Recommended soundtrack: A fuego lento – Rosana; I have nothing – Whitney Houston)_

Obi-Wan was fidgety. For the rest of the crew he was still the calmed and composed Jedi Knight, with his kind smiles, his wise words and his firm looks, but the thing was nothing, nothing, was the same. And that was why Obi-Wan was fidgety.

He put his hands inside his pockets, pressing the thick fabric of his cloak between his fists, trying to calm his senses. That morning, Aayla and the captain had left to look for the accorded pieces and now, under the captain’s slightly hysterical orders, the crew dismounted and mounted, glued, welded and tested, trying to fix correctly the damaged wing. Aayla, on the other hand, had stayed in the population, since that morning she had suggested Obi-Wan, with a pout and puppy dog eyes, the possibility of doing some investigation.

Obi-Wan should have gone with her, but he had preferred to stay in the dubious security of the ship. Obi-Wan wanted to go and at the same time, he didn’t, feeling for the first time in his life completely insecure and mysteriously defenseless. The truth was he was tired of being an adult and that the only thing he wanted was someone telling him what to do.

‘Master, what do I do?’ But Qui-Gon wasn’t there to advice him. Although if Obi-Wan thought about it, he knew Qui-Gon would have gone looking for that pair of mysterious eyes that didn’t leave his memory hours ago. Obi-Wan didn’t understand it, he couldn’t know what joined him to that young man, what was hidden behind those blue orbs that had turned his life upside down in a few seconds. Obi-Wan wanted to, had to find out, but he was scared. Scared as a five year old would be from the dark because, if his eyes had changed it all, what would happen when they actually met?

Obi-Wan hummed and tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair and, standing up, he decided that perhaps meditating was the best thing to do right now. While he walked to a nice spot to sit, the ship shook violently, forcing him to lean on the closest wall.

“Force,” he murmured. He walked to the outside platform and took some steps down, only to see the captain screaming at a young member of the crew who seemed ready to cry and call for his mommy.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, raising his voice to hear himself over the metallic sound of the machinery.

“Master Kenobi.”

The captain walked towards him and the young boy ran away.

“Don’t worry, a little accident, nothing big.”

“Alright, captain.”

After another couple of calming sentences from the captain, Obi-Wan went back inside the ship. He took his hands to his neck and sighed, feeling defeated, tired and confuse. Life, definitely, was much easier without mysterious blue-eyed strangers. He groaned softly and, sitting on the floor, he relaxed to abandon himself to the eddies of the Force.

The Force, annoying bitch, decided that the best way to torture him was, indeed, show him continuously the blue eyes Obi-Wan wanted to forget. Impossible. They were still there, bright and deep, half closed and then completely open, huge, just as they had been when they had crossed his, outlined by long lashes, which would probably feel soft against his skin. And if he focused a little more, Obi-Wan could see red, full lips, dark blonde curls, soft, effeminate features, soft looking skin, big hands, firm chest and… Force! He was obsessed.

Sometime later, when he had decided that meditation was not helping, Obi-Wan found himself sharing a precooked, insipid meal with the crew and Aayla, who had returned at some point during his frustrating meditation. The girl talked enthusiastically about the place, as if she hadn’t spent the last few weeks sinking in the mud of a planet very similar to Tatooine. Ah, the youth. Any case, Obi-Wan was only paying the necessary attention, a minimum that couldn’t qualify as acceptable, but the truth was Obi-Wan was absolutely, completely and passionately obsessed with his blue eyed boy. That was not good. And that was the reason why that afternoon, when the crew had gone back to their work, he announced:

“I think I’ll go do some investigation on my own. After all, the Temple’s archives had almost nothing on this place, and I might just have to complete them."

Aayla just nodded, finding Obi-Wan’s justification completely valid.

“Call me if something comes up.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And… I might spend the night there, alright?”

“Yes, Master.”

Oh, but Quinlan was lucky having such a nice padawan.

And with those words, he had left the ship, willing to uncover the mystery that was driving him nuts. What he couldn’t stop thinking about, though, were the reasons that had made him tell her that he was going to spend the night there and more than that, why he was so convinced that was true.

The two suns that illuminated the planet (probably the reason that the place was so annoyingly hot) started to disappear when Obi-Wan had walked more than half the way. Certainly, he was walking slowly; whether it was because of the sand that kept entering his boots or a cowardice he wouldn’t admit, he wasn’t very sure. But he couldn’t be coward, not now. He had to enter that store, ask for the young man and look at him directly in the eye. Then he would find that there wasn’t any unique thing about them, that the young man wasn’t especial and that there was nothing between them; Obi-Wan would move on with his life, the young man would move on with his. Or not.

Maybe not, because when Obi-Wan faced the open doors of the store, he didn’t dare enter the place, much less try to find the boy. He had to, but what if it was true and that kid meant something? What if he didn’t? Obi-Wan didn’t which option was scarier. He couldn’t go to him, he simply couldn’t face the deception of those blue eyes not changing a thing or the uncertainty of them changing everything. Obi-Wan was a mature man, an important Jedi, someone with his life perfectly planned and there he was, nervous because of an intense look… and that was something he couldn’t handle.

Obi-Wan lowered his eyes, kicked the floor raising a small column of sand and, in a low voice, he murmured a ‘I’m sorry, Master’. Qui-Gon would have been disappointed on his lack of guts and his fear to change, but Obi-Wan just wanted to rest and to… to… drink. Obi-Wan looked up, surprised about the sudden desire. He hadn’t drunk in years and the truth was nothing sounded better right now than a good shot of anything that contained a morbid quantity of alcohol. Not giving it a second thought, he walked towards the noisiest bar he could find.

The place was disgusting, it smelled awfully and it was filled with the scum of the galaxy; not very humanoid scum. And that was exactly what Obi-Wan was looking for. He pushed his way through the dancing floor, ignoring the unknown bodies that touched his and reaching the sticky barstool. He found a corner somewhat far from the mass that bounced to the rhythm of the music (although Obi-Wan wouldn’t call that music) and asked for a drink. He was served a suspicious looking bright pink drink, but he assumed that it would be enough to drown his sorrows.

Pathetic, he thought, this is pathetic. And it was. He was too tired to look for a change and too bored to accept his current life. Things had started losing sense years ago and now… now the only thing he had was a fantasy of a pair of blue eyes. Pathetic. Obi-Wan Kenobi was, officially, a loser.

“Same as always?”

Obi-Wan looked up at the bartender, noticing then that he wasn’t talking to him but to a figure that was sitting next to him while nodding.

Obi-Wan turned his face to look at the stranger, hoping that it wasn’t another character trying to pick him up (there had been quite a lot of those, he had even been forced to explain one of them that their species just weren’t compatible). But when Obi-Wan looked at his side he had to stop breathing, watching full lips and dark blonde curls and, when the stranger looked at him, two bright blue eyes against his. The young man seemed just as surprised as he, but he didn’t hide a smile, cocky and perfect, almost an invitation. And invitation that became real when the boy raised a hand towards him, the palm looking up and slightly curved, the perfect position for Obi-Wan to fit his fingers on it. And that was exactly what he did: before his brain had time to process what was going on, his own hand had reached the offered one, caressing fingertips with soft fingers, sliding slowly down his palms until pressing the hand with his own. A soft touch, electric and that definitely meant something.

Seconds later, Obi-Wan left the place, going through the mass of dancing people but only conscious of the contact of the hand of that who was no longer a stranger. He followed him through sand covered streets, knowing what was going to happen and not caring about a thing. He tried to force his mind to recite the Jedi Code, but his subconscious kept screaming at him that those words had made an emotionless virgin out of him, and his body was only capable of feeling the heat of the young hand against his.

It didn’t take them much time – or may it did, but Obi-Wan couldn’t be sure – to reach what must be the young man’s house, a low construction and apparently resistant to the sand storms that were probably frequent around the place. The light of the moon filtered through the windows and when Obi-Wan faced the man for the second time that night, he forgot about anything that weren’t those eyes illuminated by a ray of night light. The boy let go of his hand to caressed his face, touched his cheek, his forehead, his nose, the lines under his eyes and his parted lips, forcing Obi-Wan to let his eyelids fall shut. Then, he felt a pair of lips above his, soft, asking a wordless question. Obi-Wan had never kissed anybody, but he didn’t want any other kiss than the one that was coming from the lips of his now lover. He got closer to the boy, standing on his tiptoes to reach him properly and his lips parted for him, for his tongue and his breath, for slow and wanted caresses, desperate but soft.

The young man surrounded his waist with both arms and Obi-Wan clutched his chest strongly, afraid of losing his balance if he let go the firm body that held him. The boy took a hand to his neck, pressing them closer together, almost as if their mouths could melt and stay joined forever, tongue against tongue, lip against lip, two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly.

Obi-Wan didn’t know at which point his clothes started leaving him, but he was conscious of the contact of soft hands against his naked chest, a slow and gentle touch, working hands starting to discover him. Obi-Wan let his hands get rid of the other one’s clothes, guiding himself by instinct and necessity, lacking the experience. A moan left the young man’s throat, vibrating between their permanently joined mouths and Obi-Wan let his hands caress the firm chest, the taut stomach.

The young man started moving them then, pushing him slowly until the back of his knees met what had to be a bed. He fell on his back against the soft mattress, their mouths separating for the first time, and the young man looked at him, all bright eyes and fast breathing. The boy got rid of his own boots and Obi-Wan’s, taking then his hands to Obi-Wan’s pants and starting to pull them off. Obi-Wan raised his hips, no embarrassment or vulnerability, feeling completely safe between the big hands that now caressed his hips, the younger body descending on his.

Obi-Wan arched his body unconsciously, looking for a completely unknown touch through the thin fabric of the pants that still covered the boy, and he moaned through closed lips. The pants didn’t take too much time to disappear in a mix of effort and kicking, leaving the two naked bodies completely joined, sex against sex, nipples against nipples, lips against lips, two perfect pieces made to be together.

Obi-Wan was lost, dizzy in a world unknown to him, governed by the touch of a young skin against his. The boy descended both hands down his body, kissing his neck in ways that reached his ear and turned aside to his mouth. Obi-Wan lost all control when a hand took his erection firmly, caressing him in a slowly torturous rhythm, forcing him to choke a moan between their mouths. The other hand of the young man started caressing his opening, probing him with a finger and copying the rhythm the other one created on his erection. When a second finger entered him, Obi-Wan clutched the sweaty back of the young man strongly and got completely lost in moans that didn’t seem to be coming from his voice and caresses that didn't seem to be his own.

The boy took his fingers away but didn’t stop caressing, kissing him strongly, with necessity and, with a swift move, he entered him. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but bite the pair of lips that kissed him, feeling the metallic flavor of blood between them. The young man moved away, stopping all movement and looking at him with a half smile in the now bleeding lips. Obi-Wan closed the few millimeters that separated them and licked the trail of blood until he caressed the boy’s mouth again.  
When the young man started moving, slowly at first, faster when Obi-Wan’s moans started vibrating against his mouth, Obi-Wan thought that this should be hurting, bringing tears to his eyes, but the only thing he could feel was an infinite flame of pleasure spreading through his body. The young man was on him, inside him, around him, kissing, touching, entering, moving in an hypnotic cadence, faster with every second that passed. Obi-Wan’s world seemed to fall, his conscious loosing every sense of what his life had been to this point in which the only thing that mattered was the heat of the other body against his, moving, undulating over his chest.

A moan higher than the rest and Obi-Wan was coming between sweaty stomachs, feeling the young man shaking with an orgasm of his own. The other body fell completely on his, breathing fast over his mouth, opening a pair of closed eyes. The bright blue gaze crossed his, slightly darker than he remembered but still perfect. Obi-Wan felt that his heart had exploded inside his chest, giving his soul to an stranger that meant more than anybody, knowing that he had received the same in exchange.

That night they made love again, slower but with the same desperation. Obi-Wan found a spot on the back of the young man’s knee that made him moan deliciously, the young man found a spot on Obi-Wan’s neck that made him shiver. Finally, in each other arms, they both fell asleep on the heat of the night.

Tomorrow, thought Obi-Wan, tomorrow I will ask him his name.


	3. Day 3

  
_(Recommended soundtrack: Nine million bicycles – Katie Melua; Turn me on – Norah Jones)  
_

Obi-Wan woke up in an empty bed in an unknown room. He opened up his eyes, surprised, his senses considering the place, looking for… and then, the memory of last night returned to his mind, a bright red color painting his cheeks. He touched the other side of the bed, verifying that it was still warm and, with a soft laugh, he let all his weight rest on the mattress, closing his eyes once again and allowing himself to breath the scent of his lover, which still lingered hidden between the sheets. His lover; it sounded weird to his ears.

“Good morning.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes swiftly, propping himself on his elbows and taking his eyes to the direction where the voice came from. The young man, a tray between his hands and wearing a pair of pants, smiled widely.

Obi-Wan watched him walk towards the bed, leave the tray on it and lay next to him, looking up and not touching him. Obi-Wan took a couple of seconds to look at the tray’s contents: a glass with a suspicious looking green liquid and a plate with an indescribable mass. His eyes returned to the figure laying next to him. The same lips, the same eyes, the same features, skin he had caressed and hands that had touched him; he still had the same effect on him… something close to desire but that seemed to go beyond it.

He leaned his face on his hand, unsure of what to say. He wanted to ask him a thousand things and at the same time, stay silent. He wanted to know his favorite color, the name of his mother, the reason his lips curved in such a smile, if he had lived all his life in Tatooine, if he liked sand, what he liked to do, Force! His name… and still, Obi-Wan knew he could stay the rest of his life laying next to him, a silent understanding joining their stronger than he had ever been joined to anybody.

He smiled.

“What is this exactly?”

The words left Obi-Wan’s throat with no previous thought and quite unconsciously, casual, almost stupid.

The young man turned his face towards him, a look of his blue eyes enough to make Obi-Wan’s hand tremble. Obi-Wan lowered his eyes to the tray; the young man’s followed him.

“Trust me: you don’t want to know.”

Oh, and Obi-Wan trusted him.

“Let’s forget about breakfast then,” he whispered, returning his eyes to the boy. He smiled, completely lost in an unknown world, and completely bewitched by a young man whose name he didn’t know.

“Oh, you will forget it,” said the young man, looking up. “You’ll forget my face, my name, you’ll forget everything… except this morning, you’ll never forget this morning.”

“Will I forget the room?”

“I don’t know, take a good look at it.”

Obi-Wan let his look wander through the room for a few seconds, noticing details he hadn’t seen last night, focused as he had been on a body that was no longer unknown to him.

“It could be any room,” he whispered, “in any place of the world.”

“True, but it’s mine.”

The blue eyes looked into his, firm, bright and warm, almost a physical touch on his skin.

“It is… what is your name?”

“Anakin, and you are…?”

“Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“It’s good to know.”

“Yes, it is.”

When Anakin – Anakin, it rolled easily from his tongue – started laughing, Obi-Wan had to join him. The situation was surrealist, as if taken from a wonderful and impossible dream and, still, there they were, laying on the same bed, smiles adorning their lips, an innate naturalness in a brief relationship that seemed to have existed for years.

Obi-Wan fell back on the mattress, looking at the same spot that had the attention of Anakin’s eyes and, pretending that his arm was caressing Anakin’s accidentally, he found his hand and entwined their fingers. They fitted perfectly.

“I don’t know you,” said Obi-Wan, pressing Anakin’s hand with his own.

“Yet, you do.”

Obi-Wan turned his eyes towards him, watching him lay on his side and his look linger on him. He shivered.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Where do you want to start?”

Obi-Wan smiled; where did he want to start? He wasn’t sure… for the first time in his life he wasn’t sure of anything, and it was quite refreshing.

He let his fingers wander on Anakin’s stomach, widening his smile when he saw him bite his lower lip, a soft gasp leaving his throat. He had never expected to cause such an effect in someone else. His fingers stopped on Anakin’s hips, entering his pants, caressing the skin marked with black ink forming a ying yang.

“Why did you get this?”

“There has to be a why?” whispered Anakin, suddenly kissing the skin on his shoulder, caressing his neck with his lips.

“I’ve seen a lot of tattoos; they all represent a great love, or a great lost,”

Obi-Wan leaned unconsciously towards him, allowing entrance to a pair of playful, capricious lips.

“Nobody gets an eternal mark for nothing.”

“You don’t have tattoos.”

One of Anakin’s arms wrapped around his waist, getting him closer.

“But you’ve got scars.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, Anakin’s lips going through his collarbone, his hands through a long scar that went down his back, from his shoulder blade to his hip.

“Battles, lots of battles,” he whispered, entwining his legs with Anakin’s, caressing his calf with his toes, his back with his hands.

“But not this one.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes when Anakin caressed a small cut on the left side of his chest. He looked at Anakin’s hand, then at his eyes.

“You did this one yourself… you lost someone, someone important.”

Obi-Wan just stared at him, unsure, scared, lost, surprised? Maybe all of the above…

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“He was my Master and... I let him get killed.”

“I don’t believe you did that.”

Obi-Wan lowered his eyes, but Anakin forced him to look back at him.

“I don’t believe you did that.”

And then Anakin’s lips were on his, soft, perfect… and his.

No, Obi-Wan hadn’t let Qui-Gon die, but he had needed someone to tell him just that. He felt… Force! He felt free, relieved, slightly lost. But nothing seemed to matter, not while Anakin’s lips stayed on his, caressing between ragged pants, devouring his breath and his mouth torturously slow.

Anakin’s pants – the only clothing on any of them – disappeared easily, their bodies sliding one against the other softly. Anakin straddled Obi-Wan’s hips, their lips never separating and their hands caressing neck, chest, hair, moving incessantly on soft skin.

Obi-Wan sat on the bed with Anakin on his lap and let his lips descend down his neck, his tongue tracing a path to his ear. He buried his face on his shoulder, kissing tanned skin and breathing Anakin’s earthy scent.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Obi-Wan whispered against his ear. And he really didn’t know, but he couldn’t stop.

“Neither do I.”

Anakin’s hands caressed his hair, his body moving above his.

“Neither do I.”

Nevertheless, their bodies kept moving, their hands caressing sweaty skin, their lips kissing known corners, fitting and unfitting.

Soon enough, Obi-Wan found himself inside Anakin, moving in and out, learning a forbidden dance. Anakin’s back arched, their chests meeting with every thrust, slick with sweat, hands buried in hips, nails digging on sensitive skin, incomprehensible moans cutting the silence, lungs gasping for air, mouths searching their partner desperately and then, a moan higher than the rest, a pant, and bodies resting on the mattress, limbs entwining, breathings calming.

**

Obi-Wan didn’t know he had fallen asleep until he opened his eyes, his back against Anakin’s chest. He stood up after putting a pillow between Anakin’s arms, smiling when he saw him press it tightly against him. He felt happy, inexplicably freed from a weight he didn’t know he had been carrying.

Anakin didn’t wake up until sometime later, when Obi-Wan had found the kitchen, something edible and when he was cooking something decent.

“You cook?”

Anakin looked at the plate Obi-Wan put in front of him with an almost childish glee, forcing Obi-Wan to smile.

“It looks better than anything I’ve ever cooked.”

“I believe that.”

Anakin frowned and Obi-Wan laughed softly, getting some food on his fork when his stomach complained. After all, he hadn’t had a bite all day and… he better acquire some energies for what he had to say.  
“Anakin, I…” he coughed slightly, and Anakin lowered his head.

“You have to go back to your ship.”

Obi-Wan looked up, arching an eyebrow.

“I understand… what is someone like you doing in this place, anyway?”

“My ship broke down.”

“Of course, what would a Jedi be doing in Tatooine otherwise?”

“How do you know I’m–”

“Well, there’s the lightsaber.”

Obi-Wan looked to where Anakin’s finger pointed, looking at his carelessly tossed lightsaber. Had he stopped taking care of everything?

“Besides, you look like a Jedi.”

“I do?”

Anakin nodded, and in the meantime Obi-Wan stood up, picking his saber and holding it for a few seconds in his hand.

“What about you? Do you work with…”

“Watto, yes.”

Obi-Wan started getting fully dressed and Anakin leaned against a wall, trying to comb his messy curls with his hand.

“I used to be his slave.”

“Slave? But why–how can–oh, Anakin–”

“Don’t, please don’t.”

Anakin lowered his bright eyes, and Obi-Wan walked towards him, getting as close as he could without touching him.

"I guess the last thing you need is pity.”

Anakin looked up smiling, and shrugged a little. Obi-Wan took one of Anakin’s unruly strands of hair away from his face, then caressed his cheek, let his hand linger a little there, then left it on his neck.

“How did you pay for your freedom, then?”

“Pod-racing.”

Obi-Wan chuckled softly; he had been expecting something like that. Anakin was wild, free, young… everything he wasn’t, perhaps the ying to his yang? The piece he needed to be balanced.

“I should go,” he whispered finally, looking through the window at the lowering suns.

Obi-Wan knew it was unavoidable, the goodbye and the pain, an invisible hand that seemed to clutch his heart, an indescribable feeling screaming not to commit such a cruel act. He kissed Anakin and his lips tasted of goodbye and his eyes shined a little bit less.

When Obi-Wan took the first few steps outside of a home he had seemed to inhabit for years, he had to stop, forcing himself to breath slowly, and then:

“Obi-Wan!”

He turned his face and then his body, looking into Anakin’s eyes, which looked at him from the opened door of his house.

“How long are you staying here?”

“One, two days maybe.”

“You could come back…”

“Could I?”

“Well… you know where I live.”

And Obi-Wan smiled. He smiled because he knew he would go back, for how long? As long as he had, as long and he could offer… because Obi-Wan had fallen stupidly in love with Anakin.


	4. Day 4

_(Recommended soundtrack: Breathless – The Corrs; You’re the storm – The Cardigans)_

There was a fly inside the ship. Obi-Wan kept his eyes closed, listening to the continuous and annoying buzzing sound the insect produced while flying around him, stopping momentarily in precise points, only to restart its flight seconds later. Now it was still, right on the wall that faced the closed-eyed Master. Obi-Wan exhaled, pressed his eyes tightly and, in the exact moment, he launched forward against the insect, which moved faster than him, returning to its loud flying. Obi-Wan sighed.

“Are you alright, Master Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan nodded for the sixth time to the question leaving Aayla’s lips. He must look awful if the padawan was that worried.

It was true that he hadn’t slept at all last night, but he must look worse than he thought, since Aayla hadn’t stopped looking at him with half closed eyes and offering him refreshments throughout the morning, always accompanying her offers with a ‘are you alright, Master Kenobi?’, which Obi-Wan answered with a nod and a smile.

If this was about being honest with himself then no, Obi-Wan was not alright. He was obsessed with blue eyes, soft hands and plump lips, with sweat, caresses and moans… and the dammed fly, which kept flying carelessly around the room. Obi-Wan offered it a terrifying glare and the insect didn’t even had the decency of stopping its movements. Obi-Wan sighed again and then, the ship shook and threw him against the closest wall, effectively trapping the fly between his back and the metallic wall.

“That will show you,” murmured Obi-Wan, picking up the insect and getting rid of it.

Then, realizing that he had been talking to a fly, he decided it was a good moment to give this whole situation a solution. But how to forget Anakin if his heart seemed to race every time he thought about him? Obi-Wan had always thought – poor inexpert man in love affairs – that passion appeared after days, months, years of company and fidelity, but he was completely trapped by a young man he barely knew, absolutely sure that he loved him.

He missed him.

Force Anakin, what have you done to me?

“Are you alright, Master Kenobi?” Aayla’s voice took him out of his reverie once again.

“Yes, than–actually…”

Obi-Wan had the certainty that he was going mad.

“I think I’m going to return to the city.”

“To the city?”

Aayla arched an eyebrow in a gesture that reminded Obi-Wan awfully of Quinlan, but he kept his kind smile. At least Quinlan hadn’t given the girl his disdain towards authority.

“Yes, I have to handle some… personal business. Keep me informed of any eventuality.”

“Yes, Master.”

Obi-Wan had said goodbye to Aayla and walked hurriedly to the city in no time. The road became painfully long and when he finally got there, the sun – suns – were starting to allow the warm, dark night entrance. Despite the velocity he had taken to get there, when Obi-Wan found himself face to face with the door to Anakin’s house, his hands stayed static, incapable of knocking, or any other thing for that matter.

What the hell was he doing? Running like a love struck kid to fall into the arms of a stranger who he wouldn’t see again once his ship left this far too hot place. It was mental. And still, his heart pounded against his chest to the idea of looking at Anakin again, caressing his sweet lips and soft skin, staying an eternity just hearing the sound of his voice.

Obi-Wan remembered covering a lot of Quinlan’s affairs, whose respect for the Code was certainly questionable, and also hearing him proclaim eternal love to men and women equally on different nights, assuring every time that he had never lied when giving his heart away. Obi-Wan had laughed, amused by his friend’s irrationality; ironic that just thinking about Anakin stole his breath.

‘I’m infatuated with your youth, with your blessed madness, with the delirium you carry’ Words Obi-Wan had read in books, speaking of great feelings and passions, words he couldn’t bring to his mouth now when trying to express the sensation that stroked his chest. He was going mad but, mysteriously enough, everything seemed to make sense in an existence he had thought meaningless.

Finally, his hands knocked on the door, trembling and sweaty. Behind it appeared Anakin, ruffled hair and lost look – so gorgeous – and then, a smile spread through full lips and seconds later, Obi-Wan was inside the house, his back against the wall and Anakin’s lips on his. Obi-Wan clutched Anakin’s broad shoulders strongly and tried to stay conscious while Anakin devoured–no, raped his mouth, circling his tongue with his own, swallowing his breath, reddening his lips, intoxicating him with a marvelous numbing sensation.

“Took you long enough.”

Anakin’s lips separated from his with a pop, whispering against his skin softly.

“I… I…” but Obi-Wan couldn’t talk, so he just descended his hands to Anakin’s chest, hanged on for dear life and looked for his lips again in a second searing kiss.

“… ssed you…” murmured Anakin nuzzling Obi-Wan’s neck, licking, then kissing the point in which his pulse palpitated as if trying to win a race.

“I’ve missed you.”

“Me too… me t–”

Anakin’s lips trapped his again, making the unpronounced words vibrate between their entwined tongues.

Obi-Wan held Anakin’s neck, forcing them as close as possible while Anakin moved his hands over his body, searching for a free piece of skin. Finding none, he separated from Obi-Wan’s mouth with an adorable pout in his lower lip and lowered his eyes to where his hands fought with Obi-Wan’s clothing.

“How many clothes are you wearing?”

Obi-Wan chuckled softly and let Anakin fight against fabric until finally, he freed his chest, letting his upper clothing fall to the floor.

“Like a fucking straightjacket…”

Following his example, Obi-Wan untied the robe that covered Anakin’s body and tossed it to the floor, holding his breath when he saw that Anakin wasn’t wearing anything under it. This boy was going to be the death of him.

“So much easier, don’t you think?” whispered Anakin against his ear, teasing then the lobe with a playful tongue and biting it softly afterwards.

“Indeed.”

Obi-Wan was surprised he could actually talk.

But since then there was no real need for talking, because Anakin joined their lips again, turning off any sound that wasn’t a choked moan. Obi-Wan let his hands roam over Anakin’s chest, playing with the soft skin of a dark nipple, stroking it and getting a gasp from Anakin’s lips. In exchange, Anakin pushed his hands inside Obi-Wan’s pants, squeezing his buttocks and pressing their erections together over the thin fabric of Obi-Wan’s clothes.

With an annoyed grunt, Anakin kneeled in front of him and started taking of his boots.

“Too many clothes,” he whispered before burying his tongue in Obi-Wan’s navel, going in and out, kissing the trail of brown hair that got lost inside Obi-Wan’s pants.

When Obi-Wan’s boots finally gave up, Anakin tore the rest of Obi-Wan’s clothes away with a satisfied groan. He looked up at Obi-Wan and, with a playful smile, he kissed his inner thigh, letting his hand wander through back, butt and hips.

“Force Anakin, you’re killing me.”

Obi-Wan’s legs gave up on him and he kneeled in front of Anakin, trapping then his lips once again.

Arms entwined, hands found hair and soft skin while mouth caressed in an almost languid kiss. Their tongues met outside their mouths, inside too, saving what was left of shared breaths, fighting in a battle that had no winner, looking for corners lost in each other’s mouths, pleading for moans and gasps that vibrated between invaded territories.

Obi-Wan let Anakin push him until his back met the floor. Anakin laid then above him, covering him completely, meeting sex with sex, chest with chest and mouth with mouth. Obi-Wan choked a moan in Anakin’s mouth and dig his nails in his hips, pressing them closer still.

“Oh God, I’ve missed you so much.”

Obi-Wan chuckled softly when Anakin separated from his lips just to say that.

Now that Anakin had separated himself from his lips, he licked his own fingers and took them to Obi-Wan’s opening, stretching his muscles with two teasing fingers which went in and out of him. Obi-Wan just let him do whatever he wanted to do and moaned with every caress Anakin’s hands gifted him with. If someone had asked, Obi-Wan would have said that the boy had a thousand hands, all of them caressing his body.

“Anakin, please.”

Anakin laughed softly and Obi-Wan tried to glare at him, only managing to look at him pleadingly.

Not needing more incentive, Anakin slid inside Obi-Wan’s body in one swift move, leaning both hands next to Obi-Wan’s head for support. Obi-Wan’s legs surrounded Anakin’s waist spontaneously, his heels digging into the small of his back and forcing him to drop his full weight on him. Anakin gasped, surprised, and then held one of Obi-Wan’s legs with a firm hand, keeping the other one next to Obi-Wan’s reddened face.

Obi-Wan was the first one to move, raising his hips slightly and rotating them in a slow cadence that undid Anakin completely. Anakin started moving then, going in and out, thrusting, losing his rhythm before he managed to find it.

Obi-Wan surrounded his neck with both arms when Anakin leaned his forehead against his and licked the sweat drops that slid down Anakin’s tense neck, letting his breath caress the slick skin. Anakin accelerated the rhythm with a grunt and Obi-Wan arched his back, offering Anakin neck, feeling him kiss it immediately.

“I love you,” whispered then Anakin, a low and erotic tone leaving his parted lips, “God, I love you Obi-Wan.”

That was enough to undo Obi-Wan, who came between their stomachs with a moan louder than the rest. His nails dig in Anakin’s shoulder blades, throwing him into his own orgasm, dropping then bonelessly on Obi-Wan’s body.

Seconds later, Obi-Wan felt the warm weight that was Anakin’s body roll to rest with his back against the floor, agitated breathing, red cheeks and a satisfied smile crossing his face. Obi-Wan had the feeling that he looked pretty much like him.

“I love you.”

Anakin said those words with so much certainty, so casually, that Obi-Wan didn’t doubt that they were true and still, his most rational part forced him to protest.

“Don’t you think we’ve spent too little time together to say that?”

Anakin laughed, sitting on the floor and looking at him with smiling eyes.

“We’re missing… facts and moments, sure, but I love you.”

Obi-Wan just managed to raise his hand and caress an soft cheek, incapable of talking.

“Although…” Anakin sighed, “I guess it doesn’t really matter, ‘cause you’ll leave and I’ll stay, and the few hours we share will be forgotten.”

“Such a sad story.”

“The story of our lives.”

And it was, but it was easy too to talk about it as if it didn’t matter, as if Obi-Wan didn’t care, repeating it until he accepted it, adjusting to the idea of separation before actually being together.

“Are you hungry?” murmured Obi-Wan suddenly, forcing Anakin’s eyes to look at him. Anakin nodded.

“I’ll make something.”

Minutes later, Obi-Wan cooked silently while Anakin watched him, his arms around the Jedi’s waist and his chin on the lower shoulder. With a half smile and not complaining about Anakin’s embrace, Obi-Wan mixed eggs and heated oil easily. Obi-Wan took a knife between long fingers and started chopping onions and garlic – which Anakin had bought that morning thinking about him; although he couldn’t know that, of course – and suddenly, the knife missed its spot, almost cutting Obi-Wan’s skin.

“Be careful,” whispered Anakin against his ear.

“I’m not used to cooking with someone attached to mi back… don’t you have a job or something?”

“I took a few days off,” murmured Anakin, pressing a kiss to Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I assumed you’d come back.”

“So pretentious of you.”

Anakin just smiled.

Obi-Wan moved the oil so it heated up and, with a slow movement, he turned around between Anakin’s arms, burying his face in his neck a clutching his shoulders. Obi-Wan had seen thousands of places and met hundreds of people, but he knew he wouldn’t find a safer place than this one, feeling Anakin’s soft skin against his chest, the insistent rub of a hard nipple against his skin, the way in which their hips slid together until fitting comfortably, Anakin’s earthy scent, one of his crazy curls tickling his nose, his warm, big hands on the small of his back, the delicate curve of his neck, the way in which his smaller body seemed to fit perfectly within Anakin’s embrace.

“I love you, Anakin.”

“I know, Obi-Wan… but promise me that you won’t ask me to leave with you.”

“As long as you don’t ask me to stay.”

When Anakin’s full lips descended over his, Obi-Wan knew he wouldn't fulfill his promise, then again, he knew Anakin wouldn’t either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘I’m infatuated with your youth, with your blessed madness, with the delirium you carry.’ 
> 
> The Blind Harpist, Terenci Moix


	5. Day 5

_(Recommended soundtrack: Esta vida loca – Francisco Cespedes; Natural blues – Moby)_  
  
Obi-Wan’s eyes were fixated on the room’s ceiling; boring and the same colourthe walls were. Resting on his chest, Anakin was still asleep. Obi-Wan thought about irony, about responsibilities, about peace, about the Council, his life, truth, necessity, he thought about death and, not managing to be surprised, he was realizing that everything was turning into an indifferent murmur when he thought about Anakin’s skin under his fingers.  
  
He sighed.  
  
The last few days had been a dream and a nightmare at the same time, truths and lies getting mixed up until they only left clear the fact that love – crazy, sudden love – could mean everything. He was afraid of loosing it… he was so afraid that any moment now his comm. would ring, returning him to the reality he belonged to, the one in which Anakin didn’t fit.  
  
The destiny, annoying bastard, wanted to mock him one more time, producing the immediate high sound that indicated a call from his comm. Obi-Wan doubted for a few seconds, enough to make the sound wake Anakin up. Big blue eyes opened, surprised and, before Obi-Wan could look away, they had invaded his, half supplicant, half resigned.  
  
“Please.”   
  
Anakin’s voice left his throat low and raspy, hiding a point of fear Obi-Wan was starting to feel escalating through his own body.  
  
While his eyes stayed on Anakin’s, the biping of the comm. faded; the only sound that broke the silence of the room were the agitated breathings of both lovers.  
  
“I’m sorr.”   
  
Anakin took his eyes away from Obi-Wan’s finally, burying his face in his chest.   
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” Anakin’s voice faded, but his lips found Obi-Wan’s neck, caressing softly the sweaty skin, feeling the Jedi's pulse beating under his mouth.   
  
“I’m sorry.”   
  
A kiss on Obi-Wan’s Adam’s apple and his lips searched for his equals desperately, finding only the soft skin of a cheek.  
  
“Is sex the only thing between us?” Obi-Wan pronounced the accusation with false pretensions, expecting Anakin to kick him out of his bed, needing him not to.  
  
He would have wanted to be strong enough to leave the place that moment, to say something hurting or simply real, to break the dreamy state they had fallen in, but his senses kept reminding him of the curve of Anakin’s hips against his own, of his hair tickling his nose and cheeks, of his intoxicating scent, of his lips and his hands, his laugh and his eyes, and of Obi-Wan’s own necessity of clutching him for as long as he could.  
  
“When two lovers have so little time,” whispered Anakin then, his lips caressing the bridge of his nose, kissing the edge of his lips, “it’s the only thing they can share to remember each other. I wish I could remember moments and words, I wish I wouldn’t have to remember because you were there, but…”  
  
“It’s not fair.”   
  
One of Obi-Wan’s hands found one of Anakin’s, twining their fingers.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“That doesn’t make it less unfair.”   
  
Obi-Wan sighed, looked away from Anakin and at his carelessly tossed cloak, inside which rested his comm.   
  
“I must return, I know, but what for? So I can see the faces of the people I can’t save?”  
“And what about those you can save?”   
  
Anakin’s lips descended down his neck, soft fingers caressing skin marked by years of battles.  
  
“There is always more death.”   
  
A pinch on a dark nipple and Obi-Wan gasped, his back arching involuntarily.  
  
“You can’t save the world on your own Obi-Wan, even the greatest heroes have armies and loose lives.”   
  
Anakin licked the reddened nipple he had pinched, kissing it later and trailing down to Obi-Wan’s stomach.  
  
“I know you’ve saved many people; I know you’ll save many more.”  
  
“I will loose many more.”   
  
Obi-Wan buried one hand between Anakin’s unruly curls, spreading his legs instinctively when a soft hand caressed his inner thigh.  
  
“Why do you have to be so negative?”   
  
Anakin looked up then, fixating bright blue eyes on greyish orbs.  
  
“Because in the end, it is what matters.”  
  
“No, is not!”   
  
Anakin smiled then, his lips descending to Obi-Wan’s navel, which trembled under his kiss.   
  
“If all this planet was destroyed right now and you just saved one person, that only one would matter.”   
  
Anakin’s tongue caressed the kissed place, his lips descending until meeting his hand on the delicate skin of a thigh.   
  
“Many would have died, but this person would have survived thanks to you. You have saved her… you’ve saved me.”  
  
“What did I save you from?”   
  
Anakin took his attention to Obi-Wan’s erection, but he forced him to ascend up is body again, finding his mouth softly. Their bodies aligned perfectly while their tongues found each other between moans and ragged breathings, lips fitting and unfitting continuously, searching for new places in known terrains. It was Anakin who separated with a moan when Obi-Wan’s fingers descended down his spine, making him shiver.  
  
“From nothingness,” whispered Anakin then, his eyes again on Obi-Wan’s, “from meaninglessness.”  
  
Their mouths met again, less soft this time, more desperate and still, caressing almost reverently the strange skin that seemed to become their own for a few moments.  
  
“What I wonder is, Obi-Wan,” whispered Anakin, arching his back when his neck got bitten, nails digging on the soft flesh of his hips, “if I will ever save you from the pain that lives in your heart,”   
  
Obi-Wan looked up, but Anakin’s were looking at his chest, his fingers caressing the scar he himself had made not to forget.  
  
“I don’t want to forget,” he whispered, his hand meeting Anakin’s, moving it way from the scar.  
  
“I don’t want to make you forget, I can’t make you forget.”   
  
Anakin descended his lips on the scar then, kissing it softly.   
  
“I just want to save you.”  
  
“That you’ve done already then.”  
  
Anakin drew a small smile on his face and closed his eyes, his lashes caressing Obi-Wan’s face. Obi-Wan let Anakin kiss him again and, slowly, he inverted their positions, allowing his hands to descend down Anakin’s body, down his chest and legs, going up and down in undefined traces, pressing his hips softly, stroking a soft thigh, barely touching his stomach, caressing a nipple.  
  
“I will have to leave, you know I will have to,” he whispered against Anakin’s ear, allowing his hips to take a natural rhythm against Anakin’s, caressing his neck with his fast breathing.  
  
“And I will have to stay, I will have to…”  
  
“I know, I know.”   
  
Obi-Wan looked up, his eyes facing again those that had dragged him in from the first moment. Anakin bit his lower lip, clutched his hips.  
  
“Then make love to me,” he whispered, putting his legs around Obi-Wan’s waist, digging his hills on his lower back, “tell me that you love me, show me that you love me.”  
  
Obi-Wan slid into Anakin in one movement, soft and slow, thrusting against him when his back arched, meeting the movement. Obi-Wan put one hand on the mattress to keep his balance, but Anakin forced him to entwine it with his own, making all his weight rest on his chest, making him feel every movement of Anakin’s ragged breathing.  
  
“I love you,” whispered Obi-Wan, his hips accelerating unconsciously, his fingers digging in Anakin’s waist, his eyes on the blue ones that stayed fixated on his.   
  
“I love you.”  
  
Obi-Wan could have swore that he was inside Anakin for ages and too little time, that he had felt everything and nothing, that it had been pleasure and torture, and all of it would have been true. Any case, he was just conscious that it had finished when his forehead rested on Anakin’s, lips ignoring tired breathings and meeting at short intervals, needy and desperate.  
Obi-Wan let his face rest on Anakin’s chest, waiting for his breathing to calm, and he closed his eyes, believing that if his body was beaten by tiredness, he could make reality wait a few more hours… just a few more hours.  
  
“Stay here tonight, just tonight.”  
  
Obi-Wan looked up then, but Anakin’s eyes wouldn’t look into his, staying on an undefined spot.  
  
I would stay with you, tonight and for the rest of your life.  
  
If only he could do that.  
  
Obi-Wan parted his lips, forcing his voice to leave his throat, but before it could do it, Anakin’s hand was on his mouth, stopping any speech that could leave it.  
  
“You can’t, I know,” he whispered softly, “you can’t.”  
  
“I can’t.”  
  
Anakin looked at him then and leaned until their lips met again. Desperate, furious, frightened, they kissed Obi-Wan’s; Anakin inverted their positions once again, held his face between his hands, almost as if he was afraid he would fade into nothingness and then, he hugged him close, only to break all contact seconds later.  
  
“Leave,” he whispered, his eyes looking away from Obi-Wan.  
  
“Anakin, I…”  
  
“Just leave, please,” he repeated, sitting on the edge of the bed, “if you must leave then do it. I’m not… I’m not mad or, I wish I was furious! But I… I don’t want to watch you leave, I can’t watch you leave.”  
  
Obi-Wan put both hands on Anakin’s shoulders, and he shook involuntarily, but Obi-Wan stayed firm, buried his head in Anakin’s scalp.  
“I will come back one more time to… to say goodbye.”  
  
“You don’t have to lie to me.”  
  
“I’m not.”  
  
“Is it a promise, then?”  
  
“Yes, it’s a promise.”  
  
“If that’s so, don’t forget to keep it.”


	6. Day 6

_(Recommended soundtrack: ’74-’75 – The Conells; Perfect day – Velvet Underground)_  
  
Obi-Wan fell on the chair while fighting a resigned sigh. When Aayla had informed him that the urgency of her call had been due to the ship being attacked by sand people (efficiently beaten by her firm saber), Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to hide a smile, but when the captain had announced happily that the ship would be ready to fly the next morning, Obi-Wan had erased the gesture from his face.  
  
 _“Tomorrow, captain?”  
  
“Tomorrow, Master, and in a few days, we’ll be in Coruscant.”_  
  
Coruscant, what he had called home for so many years and that now felt like a big metallic jail, a cold place with white walls and empty rooms, where he would be received with kind but senseless smiles. It had been his dream, now it was just a nightmare.  
  
At first, there had been Qui-Gon. The presence of his Master, his guide, his friend, his only family, had been enough for him, a reason and a motive. When his light eyes had closed forever, Obi-Wan had felt lost, drowned in doubts that had always been certainties, but he had gotten over it. He had done it training, accepting more missions, studying harder, running away from a conscience that screamed it’s your fault. Only yours.  
  
Obi-Wan had received pats on his back, smiles that had danced between sadness and pride, lectures and bottles of rum, but he had needed a light-eyed young man who he barely knew to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. He had believed him, only him.  
  
 _“But not this one, you did this one yourself… you lost someone, someone important… you don’t have to tell me.”  
  
“He was my Master and... I let him get killed.”  
  
“I don’t believe you did that… I don’t believe you did that.”_  
  
One innocent truth and Obi-Wan had felt home again. He had found a place between Anakin’s arms, in a passion in which everything seemed to fit perfectly, in which there were no questions or doubts, in which Obi-Wan could smile honestly.  
  
If he thought about it slowly – because he had to, even if he didn’t want to – Obi-Wan barely knew Anakin. What did he know besides that his skin was soft and his lips sincere? No, Obi-Wan knew nothing but wanted to know everything. But that took time, and that was the one thing they didn’t have. All they had left was half a day and a night, and Obi-Wan was wasting it in a ship full of officers with fake smiles, thinking over and over again about matters his heart knew already.  
  
 _“I will come back one more time to… to say goodbye.”  
  
“You don’t have to lie to me.”  
  
“I’m not.”  
  
“Is it a promise, then?”  
  
“Yes, it’s a promise.”  
  
“If that’s so, don’t forget to keep it.”_  
  
He had promised, he had promised Anakin and himself.  
  
-o-  
  
 **Interlude**  
  
 _Day 1: Eyes._  
  
Blue and green and grey. Light and dark. Confident and unsure. A multicolor contradiction and Anakin had fallen in love.  
  
 _Day 2: Passion._

  
Anakin doesn’t believe in love at first sight, he doesn’t believe in knight in shining armors or immediate connections, but he has spent a night and a day dancing around a pair of eyes that are looking at him once again. One more time and Anakin loses his control and offers a hand, a hand that doesn’t tremble but that’s scared of the idea of rejection.  
  
But it never comes.  
  
And then there are hands and lips and skin for him to claim as his. Too slow and too fast, a sigh and everything is over, a beg and it’s starting again.  
  
Anakin has sketches, plans, ideas, a cover that surrounds his heart, protecting it from intruders who could break it, but they have all banished, almost as if someone had taken a blindfold from his eyes and had allowed him to see a light he didn’t believe existed.  
  
And hands and lips and skin… Anakin has given up control.  
  
 _Day 3: Obi-Wan._  
  
 _“And you are…?”  
  
“Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”_  
  
He should be surprised, he should be screaming ‘Jedi!’. Yes, he is the one he has seen on the Holonet: the negotiator, they call him. But all Anakin sees are light eyes and a beautiful smile.  
  
Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan Kenobi. His Obi-Wan.  
  
Obi-Wan who makes love to him with passion and tenderness, Obi-Wan who cooks for him and talks about himself and asks for his meaningless life and whose eyes scream I love you.  
  
 _“I don’t know what I’m doing.”  
  
“Neither do I, neither do I.”_

  
Anakin likes to feel confident, but fear and shyness shared in soft whispers feels right and perfect. Anakin feels at home.  
  
 _“Obi-Wan! How long are you staying here?”  
  
“One, two days maybe.”  
  
“You could come back…”  
  
“Could I?”  
  
“Well… you know where I live.”_  
  
Anakin knows he will be back, and he can’t wait for him to do so.  
  
 _Day 4: Love._  
  
 _“Took you long enough,”  
  
“I… I…”   
  
“… ssed you… I’ve missed you.”  
  
“Me too… me t–” _  
  
But rushed kisses don’t let them talk, and Anakin doesn’t want to let go of those soft lips ever, ever, ever. The certainty that he will have to makes him tremble, but now he’s here, in, out, around himself and Anakin doesn’t want to think about the future, just in his lover’s eyes dilating when he says I love you.  
  
 _“I love you.”  
  
“Don’t you think we’ve spent too little time together to say that?” _

_  
“We’re missing… facts and moments, sure, but I love you. Although… I guess it doesn’t really matter, ‘cause you’ll leave and I’ll stay, and the few hours we share will stay forgotten.”  
  
“Such a sad story.”  
  
“The story of our lives.”_  
  
It’s easy to say it, to talk about it and make his mind get used to the fact, but his voice chokes on the words, betrays him and makes him want to cry.  
  
Anakin has never been in love, he has never felt and now he is. And he is going to lose everything.  
  
 _“I love you, Anakin.”  
  
“I know, Obi-Wan… but promise me that you won’t ask me to leave with you.”  
  
“As long as you don’t ask me to stay.”_  
  
Anakin hopes Obi-Wan doesn't ask, because saying no will kill him.  
  
 _Day 5: Reality._  
  
The high-pitched sound of a comm. and Anakin’s fantasy breaks just like a fragile vase crashing against the floor. He doesn’t want him to leave, but he can’t ask him to stay.  
  
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, but what does it matter?  
  
 _“Stay tonight, just tonight.”_  
  
But his eyes tell him what he already knows and Anakin tells him to leave, he screams because he will cry otherwise, he does it so he doesn’t have to look at his figure leaving his life forever, he screams at him and he wants to crumble and beg him not to leave him alone, but he doesn’t do it.  
  
 _Day 6: Loneliness._  
  
Anakin lays on his bed, huddles and looks for his smell between the sheets. He doesn’t find it.  
  
-o-  
  
The decision of coming back for one more night was the easiest one Obi-Wan had taken in his life. If the only thing he had left of this sudden love he had found light years away from his own reality was one night, that he would accept, not a second less.  
  
If someone asked him which excuses he had given the crew or how had the walk to the city gone, Obi-Wan would have had to shrug, since his senses were numbed, consumed by one objective.  
  
 _“What I wonder is, Obi-Wan, if I will ever save you from the pain that lives in your heart.”  
  
“I don’t want to forget.”  
  
“I don’t want to make you forget, I can’t make you forget, I just want to save you.”  
  
“That you’ve done already then.”_  
  
Anakin had saved him, he had saved him with sincerity and love, he had saved him when he hadn’t known he needed to be. The least thing they both deserved was one more night, just one more night.  
  
When Obi-Wan went through the door, his eyes half closed instinctively, trying to adjust to the darkness. It didn’t take him long to find Anakin, a small figure on the bed, his eyes opened and tired. Obi-Wan walked towards him and sat on the edge of the bed, taking one hand to a rebel curl that covered Anakin’s forehead.  
  
“When are you leaving?”   
  
Obi-Wan looked for Anakin’s eyes with his, but they stayed fixed in some unknown point, almost as if they belonged to someone else.

  
“Tomorrow.”   
  
Obi-Wan was surprised when he felt a tear against his cheek, but not when he felt Anakin’s lips kissing it.  
  
Obi-Wan hid between Anakin’s warm arms, burying his face in the crook of his neck and smelling his spicy scent. He searched for his lips, desperate, and kissed him slowly, with almost unconscious movements, licking his breath and getting lost inside his taste of bitter pleasure and promises that couldn’t be kept.  
  
One entwined with the other, limbs mixing up and eyes closed, ignoring reality, they both fell asleep.


	7. Day 7

_(Recommended soundtrack: Voy a acabar contigo – Amaral; About her – Malcom McLaren)_  
   
He didn’t remember who had been, perhaps Quinlan, perhaps Mace, maybe someone entirely different, but he could clearly remember the words love is a disease coming from someone’s mouth. He remembered the character extending in a long diatribe about the viral proprieties of what the human being insisted on calling love, but that really wasn’t anything more than a few chemical reactions that could be imitated with a good portion of chocolate. He was surprised when he remembered those words were his.

Obi-Wan’s life was upside down, and he knew it wasn’t going to go back to its initial position, not when Anakin was asleep between his arms and he didn’t want to wake him just so he could make time go a little bit slower.

The bright rays of the sun filtered inside the room, annoying and cruel, getting lost in Anakin’s curls and giving a lighter shade sometimes, a darker shade sometimes. It just helped Obi-Wan remember how different this place was from what he called home. Coruscant was grey and cold. Sometimes, the sun set behind the tall metallic buildings and the sky took a pinkish glow, a soft breeze blew and the city seemed to fall into a solemn silence, almost as if it assisted to the funeral of the day and the birth of the night. Obi-Wan had adored it for years, but now it all seemed too far away.

He had left Coruscant a few weeks ago, but he had the feeling of having lived in a parenthesis for years, of having been submerged between soft skin for his whole life. Reality, though, was different, and it was like a hard blow against an already injured body.

For years he had had nothing to come back to, but now he had something not to. He was assaulted by the idea of staying here, work on a farm, sell oxidised parts of primitive machinery, bet on the races and come back home with a smile between his lips. It sounded like an utopia, and it was frustrating to know he would never be happy. He would be for a while, sure, but then he would start noticing the differences, his hands would crave the cold contact of his lightsaber and everything would become imprisoning. Then he would blame Anakin, and everything would be lost.

Perhaps, after all, it was better to have just this than to have nothing at all. He had been cared for, caressed, touched and whispered to, and that would have to suffice.

It was a rash decision, almost crazy, but he decided that it was time to let go – even if he wasn’t ready for it. He could clutch Anakin, but he couldn’t catch him, he would never be able to, and the sooner this finished, the sooner he would get used to the idea of loss that would shrink his heart for the rest of his life. He disentangled himself from Anakin, careful to leave the sleeping body on the bed, his head against the pillow instead of his chest, resting on the mattress instead of himself.

Obi-Wan looked down at Anakin for a few seconds longer, just a few more instants, and it was scary how young he looked sleeping in that big bed. It struck him how much he wanted to stay, how many questions he still had to ask, how much he needed to know.

He sighed. Softly, hiding a sob.

A soft kiss to Anakin’s temple, a single touch to one of his most rebellious curls and Obi-Wan was standing up, turning around, leaving.

“Don’t.”

Obi-Wan hadn’t reached the door when the simple command was enough to make him stop. He didn’t turn around, afraid he wouldn’t be able to go, ever, but he did stood there, with the sun in front of him and his lover behind him, as all the great heroes had been at some point. Except he wasn’t going to come back, he wasn’t going to have a happy ending and – oh, yes – he was no hero.

Hands flowing around his waist surprised him, but he welcomed the firm support Anakin gave him and he leaned back just a little, to feel his back against the younger broad chest. Anakin’s chin came to rest on his shoulder and, distractedly, Obi-Wan noticed he was trembling.

“I wish,” he murmured finally, “I wished I could get to know you. For real. I wish I could stay.”

“Stay,” Anakin’s voice was merely a whisper, but Obi-Wan felt it right in his ear, caressing him just as Anakin’s breath did so too.

“You promised you wouldn’t ask.”

“I had to try, didn’t I?” Anakin’s embrace became suddenly tighter, and Obi-Wan let go of a little bit more of his weight on him, touching his hands to the big ones on his flanks. “I love you.”

“Come with me,” Obi-Wan closed his eyes and parted his mouth, forcing himself to breathe slowly.

“And do what? Stay in an ugly apartment, keep a lousy job, wait for you to come back from a dangerous mission in a far away planet? We would fight, I would blame you, we would break it.”

“Then, then just promise me that if you ever need–”

“Anything, no matter what it is, I’ll come to you. Even if I’ve killed somebody and I am running away from the law.”

“Yes, do that, please,” Obi-Wan smiled softly, opened his eyes, “just try not to kill anybody.”

“Well, if I have to do it to see you again, I might consider it,” Obi-Wan chuckled. It was a soft sound, almost scared, and Obi-Wan noticed it was mingled with a single tear running down his cheek.  
   
Obi-Wan spun around then, falling easily inside Anakin’s embrace. His arms were big and tight around him, and they made Obi-Wan think that, perhaps, if he closed his eyes strong enough, he would disappear and he wouldn’t have to go back to white walls and empty rooms. He was so afraid of going back to what his life was and never feel the same. There would be sunsets and sunrises, Council meetings, long missions, wounds and friends, but he knew that, no matter what, he would always miss the comfort of a presence that was meant to be next to him.  
   
“Write to me,” Obi-Wan looked up and into Anakin’s eyes, surprised by how tiny his voice sounded. “Promise you will,” murmured Anakin. “Write to me ab-about what you do and where you go, about the people you save, the things you like, the things you would like me to see… write-write to me about who you are, ok? Just… about anything you want.”  
   
Obi-Wan nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly and raised a trembling hand to Anakin’s face, caressing his cheeks with his fingertips. A rebel lock of curly hair fell on Anakin’s eyes and tickled Obi-Wan fingers, which proceeded to skim down his jaw and his neck, to settle lightly on his shoulder.

“You’re so young Anakin, so very young. Forget about this and–”

“No,” Anakin shook his head and, taking Obi-Wan’s hand in his, he kissed his middle finger lightly and then let it rest again on his shoulder. He leaned closer, bumped his nose softly against Obi-Wan’s and smiled. “There will be others in my life, I’m pretty sure, but not you. You are… you are my lover, my one and only Obi-Wan.”

“Promise you’ll write back.”

“Every time, every single time.”  
   
Oh, and there it was, wasn’t it? The definitive goodbye, the words that screamed of closure, of pain and of fear. Obi-Wan wondered briefly if this would have been any easier if he had just left without saying goodbye at all. Probably not.

The kiss was soft, slow and wet. It was about mouths saying goodbye without words, about a last symbolic battle between tongues that twined and untwined in a battlefield that was just for them. It was filled with something that burned darkly and ached sharply, eating at both their hearts mercilessly.

I’ll miss you.

I love you.

I’m sorry.

I wish…  
   
“Go, go now,” Anakin took a step back, let go of Obi-Wan, made sure not part of their bodies was touching anymore. “I just… I’ll just st-stay,” he blinked back a few tears, and Obi-Wan realised he was doing the same.  
   
It didn’t take the Jedi long to leave the town behind, to walk through the deserted lands and to reach his ship, to talk and order, to smile and even meditate, to step on the cold floor of Coruscant and look at the pale blue sky, to meet the Council and report about some mission he barely remember, to reach his lonely quarters, get drunk and cry himself to sleep in a bed that felt far too big for him.

He had left this place with no soul and no heart, carrying only a small scar above his heart and the weight of guiltiness and emptiness. He had returned with something more, something he had found locked behind a pair of bright blue eyes. He had returned with a reason to cry for, with a feeling he didn’t know existed, with something to go on, and fight and believe. He had spent far too many years fighting for his life for no reason but now, oh, now he would fight for every breath, for every second of his life, just so he could miss his lover a little bit longer.


End file.
